Wake Me
by scarylolita
Summary: Derek holds the key to saving Stiles from nightmares... but when he becomes the one thing Stiles fears the most, it puts a damper on his heroic plan. Slash, Sterek.


**Teen Wolf © Jeff Davis.**

**Wolf Boy lyrics © ****Kat Frankie****.**

**Mwahaha my third Teen Wolf fic! This is mainly just about Stiles' nightmares, ignoring everything else that's going on in the show thus far because I don't really know enough about Kira to get into that (but she seems pretty damn awesome so far!). So basically, Stiles is still having bad dreams because of the whole "dying and coming back to life" deal.**

* * *

_My room, alone I tried to keep this quietly_

_There was a time I shared myself so nervously, you know_

_I think I got away this time_

_I think I got away from the lie_

* * *

It's dark and Stiles is alone in his bedroom. He hears whispers, voices telling him to do things – voices telling him _not_ to do things. "Who am I supposed to listen to?" he asks himself, reaching towards the doorknob.

"_Don't do it!" _

"_Do it!" _

"_Don't!" _

"_Do it now!" _

"_PLEASE, DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!" _

Voices ring in his mind – some familiar and some not. He can vividly remember Lydia begging him not to do it. She pleaded, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

He can feel his heart palpitating as his fingers inch closer and closer towards the door. When he opens it, there is a figure on the other side – hooded and unrecognizable. It pushes him and he falls backwards but instead of landing on the floor he lands in a coffin. "No…" he murmurs to himself as it closes. "No, no… Please… No… Somebody! Somebody help me!" He struggles, banging on the sides and trying to find a way out, but to no avail.

Then suddenly it stops.

"Dude, you okay?" Scott asks, shaking Stiles awake.

Stiles frowns, eyebrows drawing together as he takes in his surroundings. "What…?"

"I asked if you were okay," he repeats.

"Where are we?" Stiles frowns.

"We're at school," Scott explains slowly, as if talking to a child.

"We are?" Stiles asks. "Oh… we are." They're sitting in the crowded cafeteria. It's lunch time. He must've fallen asleep.

"What is wrong?" Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "Nothing, I'm fine. It's just the dreams. I'm still having them and…" he trails off and this is when he notices that Derek Hale is sitting with them. "What are you doing here?" he asks. "I thought you left?"

Derek doesn't speak. He remains tight-jawed and cold looking.

"Typical," Stiles mutters.

"He's here to protect you," Scott explains.

"Protect me?" Stiles practically chokes.

Scott nods somewhat sagely. "I have to go," he says, getting up.

"Go where? Look, I don't need to be protected!" Stiles snaps, tired of everyone thinking of him as the weakest link. Scott, however, doesn't listen. He just keeps walking. Suddenly, everyone in the cafeteria gets up and follows Scott out, leaving Derek and Stiles alone. "What is going on?" he murmurs, glancing at Derek in hopes of getting some answers.

Still, Derek doesn't speak. He places his pointer finger to his lips, silently telling Stiles to be quiet. Stiles starts shaking, an eerie feeling creeping up his spine. "Derek…" he says the werewolf's name. "What's happening?" Nothing."Why do I need protection?" Stiles asks, voice wavering. "What is coming after me?"

"It's here," Derek says, finally speaking up.

Stiles glances towards the entrance and notices a dark, hooded figure. It's that same figure. It's coming closer… it's coming. That's when Stiles realizes something – he's still asleep. "No," Stiles whispers, his voice breaks. "Please, no…" He stands up and starts backing away. "Wake up…" he murmurs to himself, pounding on his skull with his fists. Suddenly, Derek is standing behind him. He grabs both Stiles' wrists, holding him in place and preventing him from moving as the figure moves closer.

"Wake up…" Stiles pleads with himself, squeezing his eyes shut. "Wake up… Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

Stiles starts screaming – screaming himself awake.

* * *

_For everyone that burned on _ _your tongue_

_That first tastes so warm, but now you're tired_

_Do they know now what they see?_

_That you won't make a liar out of me?_

* * *

Mr. Stilinski is prepared for this. It's been happening a lot. He wakes up to the sound of his son screaming – something no father wants to do. He runs into Stiles' bedroom and tries to wake him, but Stiles is still far, far away – trapped in the deepest corners of his mind with things he doesn't yet understand. He screams himself to the point of tears, angry and frustrated, unsure of how to escape from whatever it is that's chasing him. Mr. Stilinski holds him down when he begins to struggle, afraid Stiles might hurt himself.

When the teenager finally opens his eyes, he notices his father holding him. He's embarrassed, but mostly relieved. He doesn't want him to let go just yet. "Sh…" Mr. Stilinski says gently. "You're awake."

Stiles latches onto his father's arm, trying to suppress a shudder. "Am I?" he asks, as if he doesn't believe it.

"Yeah, you're awake," the sheriff softly assures his son.

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, reaching a hand up to wipe his damp eyes.

"I'm sure," he promises, patting Stiles' shoulder. "There was a name you kept screaming…" he adds.

"A name?"Stiles asks. "Whose?"

"Derek… Derek Hale."

He grimaces at that. How embarrassing. He can't help but wonder why he would scream Derek's name, of all people… but deep down, he knows. He'd just rather not say it, even to himself. He's not quite ready to admit it.

At school, Lydia reads Stiles like one of her favourite books. She takes one look at him and offers a sympathetic smile. "So," she states. "These dreams… tell me about them."

Stiles lets out a soft sigh, sitting down in the seat next to hers. "They always feel so real… I'll think I'm awake but then I'll find out I'm still dreaming," he murmurs with a frown. "I feel like I'm going crazy."

Lydia nods along to what he's saying. "What happens in them?"

Stiles attempts to suppress a blush. "Sometimes you're there," he says. "You tell me not to do things… and then there's Derek. I don't know why he's there, but he's never trying to help me. I always end up having to run away from something."

"Hm," Lydia taps her chin a few times.

"Any ideas?"Stiles urges.

"Maybe the people in your dream are trying to trap you in your mind. Maybe the only demon you have to face is your own. Maybe they will come in the form of all your insecurities."

"Do you think it'll ever stop?" he wonders miserably.

"Yeah," Lydia says, reaching forward and holding his hand. "You'll be fine. Just stay strong."

Stiles nods his head, but the larger part of him wants to ask how. He doesn't know how to stay strong because he's too used to feeling weak.

That night, Stiles falls asleep and when morning comes, he doesn't wake up. When Mr. Stilinski enters the land of the living, he immediately notes that Stiles slept through the night without bad dreams. He gets up out of bed and rushes into his son's room, shaking him awake.

"Stiles?"

Nothing.

"Stiles!"

Still, nothing. Stiles doesn't budge an inch, his head just lolls back and forth with each shake his father delivers.

"Damn it!" Mr. Stilinski hisses. "Damn it!" Unsure of what to do, he rings the McCall house. Scott and Melissa don't hesitate to rush over.

"Where's Derek Hale?" he immediately asks when the two of them pile through the front door.

"No one knows," Scott says. "After the incident with the durach, he ran off with Peter and Cora… Why?"

"I think he might be able to help," Mr. Stilinski says.

"Help? How?" Scott questions eagerly.

"The other night… Stiles was saying Derek's name in his sleep," he explains, not sure what it means.

"I'll find him," Scott promises. He glances at his mother, who smiles sadly in response.

"I'll stay here," she says. "Do what you have to do."

Scott gives a firm nod before turning around. Once he reaches the end of the driveway, he runs. He runs as fast as he can, determined not to return to Beacon Hills without Derek Hale.

It's time to hunt a wolf.

* * *

_And know for every speck you spy_

_You can look me in the eye and tell me honestly_

_Can you tell me real things?_

_Can you tell me real things?_

* * *

It's dim, like it often is in Stiles' dreams and Derek is there, just like the last time only it's different. He's different. They're in Stiles' bedroom and it's the full moon, but Derek isn't changing. He's has control over that part of himself… but still, there's something strange about him tonight.

"Derek?" he says the werewolf's name.

"Stiles," Derek mimics the teenager's tone. He takes a step closer and Stiles takes a step back.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"What do you mean?" Derek wonders. "I'm doing what you want me to do."

"What I want…?" Stiles trails off. Frantically, his eyes move around the room, looking for a possibly escape but not finding one. Even if he ran, he wouldn't get far at all. "Dad…" he murmurs, unsure of what else to do. "Dad! DAD!" But unlike most nights, his father doesn't show up and Stiles is pushed onto his bed. He struggles as his face is pressed into the mattress and his legs are pulled open in a painful angle. "Derek, no!" he shouts as hands push and feel and pry. "Derek, stop it! Please, stop!" But Derek doesn't stop. He doesn't speak. He doesn't look and he moves as if he's in a daze, unsure of what he's truly doing. 'It's the animal part of him,' Stiles tells himself. 'He isn't himself… he isn't himself and that's why he's going this…' Perhaps the werewolf doesn't have as much control as he likes to think he has.

Afterward, Stiles is left alone, but he is unable to move for many long minutes. He just lies on his bed with his eyes squeezed shut, fingers curled in the sheets. He's scared Derek might come back. He's too scared to make a sound – to breath. 'Derek won't come back,' he tells himself. 'He got what he came for.' He finally forces himself to move. He puts his clothing back on and his limbs ache as they work. He pulls himself together, though shuddering with each step. He moves towards the door. There's always something bad on the other side and he's wondering what will be there this time. He swallows harshly before reaching for the knob and twisting. What he sees when he opens the door surprises him. He sees that familiar hooded figure, but when he removes the hood Stiles sees himself. Maybe there never was a monster. Maybe it was only ever him – maybe he's his own demon. It's his insecurities, his faults, his flaws, his fears… He has so many, it would only make sense. Perhaps it's just as Lydia said. His mind is his strength, and in turn, it's his greatest weakness.

"Is this real?" he asks numbly, moving his hands around and watching as his mirror image mocks his movements.

"Yeah, it's real," his other self says. "You're real, I'm real. This is all real."

"Derek…" Stiles trails off. His voice cracks and he is unable to put it into words. "Why?"

"Because he's a monster," his mirror image explains, "and that's what monsters to – they hurt people."

"But Derek…"

"Derek isn't any different. He's just as cold and evil as you thought he was when you first met him. Scott is no different… and it's the same with dear Lydia. They're monsters. Monsters! Think back to all the times they've struck fear in you – think of the times your friends have tried to kill you."

"No, you're lying," Stiles says wetly and his other self simply smiles.

"Look at you… you really are the weakest link," he says. "You can't protect yourself. If you can't, then who will? No one. You're all you have."

"Stop," Stiles shouts, squeezing his eyes shut. "Get out of my head… get out…"

"I'm not in your head and neither are you. We're both right here, standing in your bedroom."

"This is a dream," Stiles whispers.

"No, it's not."

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"I'm sure," his other self promises. "I know you wish it was, but it's not. Some things are just hard to face."

"Oh," he says sadly, not wanting to believe that his life has gotten as bad as it has. "What now?"

"There's someone you need to see."

* * *

_Oh I heard you love bedtime_

_With all those morning birds to notice life_

_He'll swear we're struck when she appeared_

_My dear, we have to get away this time_

* * *

Scott finds Derek in a motel with Peter and Cora just outside of town. They expected him. They probably knew he was coming before he left Beacon Hills. "So, what is it?" Derek asks expectantly. He has his arms crossed; radiating an air of aloofness that Scott wants to roll his eyes at.

"You need to come back to Beacon Hills," he demands. "It's important."

"Why's that?" the former alpha questions, raising an eyebrow at the sudden request.

"Stiles needs you," Scott says.

This catches Derek's attention. "Why?"

"He's in a bad place," Scott explains, "and there's something keeping him there."

"What's keeping him there?"

"We don't know," Scott admits, "he won't wake up… but he said your name, so maybe you can help."

Derek simply stares at Scott, not quite sure what to make of the admission.

"I know you care about him!" Scott shouts. "So stop acting so heartless!"

"Go, Derek," Cora says softly, while Peter just looks thoroughly amused.

Derek's jaw tightens at his sister's urging. "Fine."

Scott gives a firm nod and the two werewolves make their way make to Beacon Hills. With impressive amounts of speed, it doesn't take them long to reach the Stilinski house. Scott opens the door and they both walk inside. Melissa welcomes them back, and says, "Stiles is still asleep. His father is with him now."

Scott nods and the three of them walk upstairs, where Mr. Stilinski is sitting on the edge of Stiles' bed. The teenager is whispering things to himself, things that don't make sense to anyone in the room.

"What is he saying?" Derek asks. He can smell the fear. There's so much of it.

"I don't know," the sheriff murmurs. "He's been doing this ever since he stopped screaming… just muttering thing…"

"Screaming?" Derek question with a frown.

"Whatever is happening to him in his dreams, it isn't good," Melissa says sadly, hating the thought of it all.

"He was screaming for me," the sheriff continues, terse and angry. "I couldn't do a damn thing."

"He'll be okay," Scott promises. "We'll put a stop to this." He gestures Derek further into the room, where the former alpha finally gets a good look at the unconscious teenager.

"What do I do?" he asks.

"Try calling to him," Melissa suggests.

Derek lets out a quiet sigh. "Stiles?"

"Louder," Melissa requests. "He needs to be able to hear you."

"Stiles!" Derek shouts and the scent a fear grows stronger. He glances at Scott, who clearly noticed it, too. Derek puts a hand on Stiles' arm, and the teenager begins shouting.

"Maybe this isn't going to work," Scott whispers, pushing past the former alpha. He bends over Stiles and starts shaking him. "WAKE UP, STILES!" he screams. "WAKE UP!"

"Don't forget your own strength," Derek warns. "You could hurt him."

Scott pauses, letting out a breath. "Damn it…"

* * *

_We gotta get away from the lie but have you touched deceit so real_

_Felt it disappear, felt your mind let it by?__  
_

_Do they know, know what they see?_

_That you won't make_ _a liar out of me?_

* * *

Stiles allows his other self to leave him through a narrow hallway, into a bright, white room. There's a figure standing in the center, a figure he immediately recognizes. "Mom…?" he whispers, stepping towards her.

She turns around, smiling gently as she wraps her arms around her son for the first time in years. Stiles begins shaking. He knows this shouldn't be happening. He _knows_, yet... it feels so real. "Why did you do it?" she asks.

"Do what?" he chokes out the question.

"Let me die," she says softly, parting from him. "You let me go when you should have held on."

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut. "I didn't..." he starts.

"You did," she insists. "You did."

He lets out a sob, unable to deny it.

She clicks her tongue and coos, "What's that look for?"

"I'm sorry," he says, voice wavering.

"I know, baby," she says. "I know."

Stiles watches as her figure fades away into nothing. He suppresses a keening sound and sniffs, wiping his eyes and staring back at his other self. "Do you see now? Do you understand?"

"No," Stiles admits.

His other self rolls his eyes impatiently. "You're supposed to be the smart one. You're supposed to process the information. You're supposed to understand. That's the part you play, isn't it? You sit at your computer desk and you put the puzzle pieces together while everyone else is out there fighting... Because of this, your best friend will always get the girl..." he pauses, cracking a grin, "but I suppose that doesn't matter, because you don't want the girl. You want the boy. Now that you've had him once, how did it taste? How did it _feel_?"

Stiles shudders. "Stop..." he whispers.

"Do you want it again?" his mirror image asks before morphing into the figure of a familiar werewolf.

"Derek," Stiles chokes on the name as the former alpha draws closer. "No..."

With his claws at the ready, Derek raises a hand, wrapping his strong fingers around Stiles' pale, thin neck.

Stiles inhales sharply before his air supply is cut off. He digs his nails into the werewolf's iron grip, but to no avail. Derek tightens his hold, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until -

Stiles gasps, sitting up in his bed and letting out a string of dry coughs. Everyone in the room stares wide eyed. "Stiles!" Scott exclaims, relieved that his best friend is finally awake.

But instead of smiling or greeting his best friend, Stiles does something else once he spots Derek Hale at his bedside. He starts to cry, bending over and covering his face. Derek is at a loss. He glances back at Stiles' father, who looks just as concerned. "Why did you do it?" Stiles demands between sobs. "Why…? Why?"

"What did I do?" Derek asks in a strangely gentle tone.

Stiles wipes his eyes and bitterly snaps, "Don't make me say it."

"Stiles, look at me," Derek instructs.

Stiles shakes his head. "You know."

"Please?"

That catches him off guard. He's never heard Derek say that word before… but still he can't bring himself to look into the eyes of someone who violated every inch of his physical and mental being. He lets out a string of sobs, not wanting to think about it – not wanting to believe it's true.

No one knows what to do. Scott is angry and full of questions, as is the sheriff, and Derek is just confused… However, Melissa understands. She could tell from the way Stiles struggled in his sleep and the way he screamed, and even now, he's shaking. She can see the signs and even though what Stiles went through didn't happen in this world, it happened in _his_ world and, in a way, that makes it real.

"Derek," she calls to the werewolf, who stands up. She quietly instructs him to wait downstairs with Scott before moving past them. She claims his seat at the edge of Stiles' bed and, in a gentle and soft tone, she says, "I'm sorry."

Mr. Stilinski doesn't speak. He only watches. He watches as his son raises his head to look at Melissa. He looks at her pleadingly, as though there are questions he has but is unable to put into words.

"It wasn't your fault," Melissa promises him. She gives him a reassuring smile before glancing at the doorway, where his father is hovering. Mr. Stilinski watches them with curiosity and confusion before taking a few steps into the room.

"Am I dreaming?" Stiles asks, looking at his father.

"No," the sheriff whispers. "You're not dreaming."

"Are you sure?" the teenager asks.

"You just woke up,"

"What?" Stiles murmurs. "Then…" He gives Melissa a questioning look.

"Derek would never hurt you like that," she says gently.

Stiles parts his lips, feeling a mix of relief and sadness, unsure which is more powerful. "Oh…" he whispers. "Of course…" His dreams are trying really hard to mess with him in the worst of ways. It's getting harder to tell whether or not he's conscious or dreaming.

"Would you like to talk with him?" Melissa asks. She holds out her hand, giving Stiles the choice. He hesitates, but a moment later he slips his hand in hers. He thinks back to what Lydia said... maybe he really is dreaming about his insecurities. He doesn't want people to keep thinking he's weak. He doesn't want people to think he can't protect himself. He doesn't want Derek to hate him. He doesn't want to believe that his mother's death was truly his own fault. He doesn't want his father to believe it, either.

"Maybe I _am_ the weakest link…" he murmurs aloud.

"You're not," Melissa promises him without a hint of hesitation.

"This isn't affecting everyone else the way it's affecting me," Stiles points out. "It's still affecting me..."

"You're all different," Melissa says, "and that means you all have different skills. Perhaps your mind is being affected because your mind is your greatest strength."

"Yeah," he murmurs, but it doesn't make him feel any less weak. Scott overcame his fear of transforming and Alison can shoot a bow as good as ever... yet, Stiles' dreams continue to pervade his wake and sleep.

"Maybe Derek can help you," she smiles. "If you let him."

"How?" Stiles asks.

"When he touched you... you felt it," she says. "You feared it, but you felt it. When Scott touched you, you didn't react at all."

Stiles frowns at the possibility. If Derek is the only one who can help him and he's the one Stiles fears the most, it's won't make things easy. It might only make things worse. "I need to talk to him," he says. He doesn't want to, but he knows he has to.

"I'll bring him upstairs," Melissa says, letting go of Stiles' hand and leaving the room.

Mr. Stilinski looks at his son, trying not to give him a piteous look because that's the last thing the boy needs. A few minutes later, Derek walks back upstairs with Melissa. They're both silent, but Stiles knows that the nurse likely told Derek what happened. The thought alone makes Stiles pale.

"Hey," Derek greets.

"Hey," Stiles echoes.

"We'll just be outside," Mr. Stilinski promises as he and Melissa leave the room.

Stiles is silent when he's left alone with the werewolf. Derek doesn't push him to talk, but Stiles knows he's not the most patient person in the world. "I can feel you when I'm asleep," Stiles starts. "I don't know why."

"All right," Derek murmurs, stony as ever. He hovers at the opposite end of the room, wary of being too close and wary of being too far away.

"I felt you when I was dreaming," Stiles continues, "but I didn't listen because..."

"I know," Derek says in a strangely gentle tone after the teenager trails off.

"I ignored you," Stiles admits. "I closed in on myself." He gets out of bed, slowly making his way across the room to where the wolf is standing. He reminds himself that this is Derek - the real Derek. This man won't hurt him. This man is stern and this man is cold... but he can also be the good things, unlike the wolf he meets when he can't wake up.

As they both stand in front of one another, Derek offers the teenager a faint smile. "So," he starts, "I guess this means I'm staying the night."

* * *

_Before I watch the silver burst_

_Have my promise first till you got weird on me_

_Can you tell me real things? Can you tell me real things?_

_Can you tell me real things? Can you tell me real things?_

* * *

The remainder of the day is spent carelessly - doing things that are comfortably mundane, but Stiles knows that everyone is concerned about what will happen when he finally goes to sleep. Will he be able to find it in himself to listen to the werewolf and allow him to pull him away from his nightmares? He hopes so.

The boys are watching a baseball game on the television. Stiles is sitting the middle, with Scott and Derek on each side of him. Melissa and his father are in the kitchen and it's irritating Stiles. He knows that they're talking about him and he hates that he's the only one who can't hear what they're saying.

He pretends to be immersed in the game, but he finds it hard when there is so much going on. "What are they saying?" Stiles murmurs, unable to keep ignoring his curiosity.

Scott and Derek share a look, neither of them speaking up.

"Come on," Stiles snaps. "What are they saying? I know you both can hear them."

"They're worried," Scott says.

"Wow, really?" Stiles retorts sarcastically. "I had no idea they might be worried! Please, tell me more?"

"Your father is angry at himself for not being able to do anything to help you," Scott continues.

Stiles softens at this.

"He's asking why you reacted when Derek called to you and when he touched you, but not when anyone else did it," the alpha adds.

Stiles flushes, not wanting to think about ever having to explain that one.

"We should ask Deaton about it," Scott suggests. "Maybe he knows why it's happening?"

Stiles grimaces. "No. Who cares?"

"Me," Scott says. "I'm your best friend and your father... he's your father! So, why is it Derek, of all people?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, desperate for a change in subject. "I don't care. I just want this to be over so I can go back to school and be somewhat normal." Or, as normal as he _can_ be with a best friend who is a werewolf and another best friend who is a banshee... Okay, so maybe _normal_ isn't the right word.

"Fair enough," the alpha relents for now.

"I can't explain it," Stiles continues. "I know it isn't logical. I know that when I see two of me, I should know I'm dreaming… but it feels so real I begin to question myself… I begin to question everything."

"Just because it was a dream, it doesn't make it unimportant," Scott says. "If you felt it and if you still feel it, then you don't have to pretend it doesn't bother you."

Stiles forces a smile, knowing Scott's mother probably told him what he saw in his head. She probably also told him what to say and what not to say. "Thanks, Scott."

After the baseball game is over, Melissa and Scott go home. Stiles bids them a goodnight, putting on a good-natured smile as they leave. Derek, on the other hand, stays. Stiles is dreading sleep even more than usual. He bids his wary father a goodnight before brushing his teeth and doing his nightly business. When he retreats to his room, he sees Derek standing in the corner.

"When is a door not a door..." Stiles murmurs before answering, "When it's _ajar_."

"What?" Derek raises an eyebrow.

"It's a riddle," he explains. "I kept seeing it in my head and I didn't get why... but Deaton said there's a door that needs to be closed. It was opened when I died with Alison and Scott."

Derek nods slowly. "So, how do you close it?" he asks.

"First, I need to be able to know I'm dreaming," he says. "That's where you come in. If you can reach me in my dreams, then you'll be able to... guide me, per se. I need you to help me. I need you to help me see that what is happening isn't real."

Derek gives a solid nod. "Okay."

Stiles gets into bed, pulling the covers over himself. "No offence," he starts, "but there's no way in hell I'll be able to sleep with you hovering like that."

"Where do you want me, then?" Derek asks.

"Guest room," the younger male instructs before murmuring, "Trust me, if I need you... you'll know."

* * *

_Did you know he's falling in love?_

_Did you see him break down your door?_

_Did you watch the water get split?_

_Teeth song to white and all the shadow of a naked wolf was born_

* * *

Stiles is running. He's running so fast, his shadow is having a hard time keeping up... but why? Why is he running? What is chasing him? He's in the forest, dodging tree branches when he sees Derek. "It's here," the werewolf says, grabbing Stiles so he can no longer run.

"Stop," Stiles pleads. "Stop, Derek, please! Let me go! I have to... I have to get away!"

But Derek doesn't let him go and Stiles' mirror image draws closer, climbing over fallen trees and making his way through the mist. "You can't run from me!" he calls. "No matter what, I'll always be here! I'll always be inside of you!"

Stiles closes his lids and when he opens them, he's staring into his own eyes and Derek finally lets go of him.

His mirror image smirks, circling Stiles with Derek.

"Stop," Stiles mutters, closing his eyes again. "Stop..." When he opens them, he's no longer in the woods. He's in his bedroom, watching himself get pushed down by the werewolf once more. He stands frozen in the corner of his room, watching himself struggle. He swallows a sob as the scene plays on. His clothes are ripped off by clawed fingers, left bare and vulnerable as if he were the wolf's prey. Some animals like to play with their food.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut again, clasping his palms over his ears and trying to drown out the sound of his own screaming. "Stop, stop, stop, stop," he whispers to himself, but the screaming pervades. He's calling for his father, who can't hear him and all Stiles can do is ask himself why.

When it's finally over, he stands up. He's alone in his bedroom. Alone with himself, naked and bleeding.

"Oh, Derek!" his mirror image gasps with mock and disdain. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you! But... you don't love me. Isn't that right, Stiles?"

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. "Why are you doing this?" he asks weakly.

"I'm trying to show you the truth" his other self says angrily.

"Don't," Stiles murmurs. "I don't want to see any more."

"But... I have so much to show you," he whispers. "So, so, so much more..."

"Stop!" Stiles demands.

"No."

"Stop!" he demands once more.

"No!"

"STOP!" he screams. "STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!" But it doesn't stop. Laughter echoes throughout the walls of his mind, permeating every inch of him until he hears something else -

_"Stiles, you're dreaming..." _

_"Stiles..."_

_"Stiles..."_

_"You're dreaming..."_

_"You're dreaming, Stiles..." _

"I know that voice," Stiles murmurs to himself, but it feels foggy and distant. "Derek?"

_"The door..." _

_"Find the door..."_

Realization dawns upon him. "This is a dream," Stiles says to himself.

"What?" his mirror image asks.

"This is a dream," Stiles repeats. "This isn't real..."

"But _I'm_ real!" his other self roars.

"Maybe so," Stiles says. "You're the worst parts of me. You're my insecurities, my faults, my flaws, my fears, you're all the things I hate about myself... but you have no power over me unless I allow it."

"What makes you think I won't come back?" he asks sharply. "When you're alone and you're afraid... I'll be here. I'll be waiting and you will welcome me back."

"I won't," Stiles whispers harshly. "Never again."

He's closing the door. His mirror image begins to fade away with everything else and the walls begin to crumble before reconstructing. Things are going back to the way they should be, and Derek is pulling him to the surface. He's no longer drowning and it's no longer dark. He's home.

* * *

_As if you never heard enough_

_As if belief did not come to crawl  
_

_Did they take that oxen to the woods_

_That boy misunderstood had a hand in his pocket and out of_ _the key, you know_

* * *

Stiles eyes flutter before opening.

"Did you close the door?" Derek immediately asks, hovering above the teenager.

Stiles stares up at him and laughs breathlessly. "Yeah... I did it." He sits up and sees his father standing a few feet away. He gives him a reassuring smile. Relief explodes inside his chest, and though he's been asleep for a while... he feels like he could use a few more hours. It might be nice to sleep without disruption and fear. He closed the door in his mind by facing himself - his demons, his insecurities, his faults, his flaws, his fears... the things that make him weak and the things that make him human.

"I'll be here," Derek says. "Whenever you need me, I'll be here. If you need me to pull you back again..."

Stiles softens at that. "Thank you, really."

Stiles foregoes school for the second day in a row. As does Scott, who returns to the Stilinski house with Melissa around noon. Derek is gone by then. Stiles doesn't mind that he's gone, because he knows he won't stay gone. He'll be back.

Scott smiles slyly at his best friend, who raises an eyebrow. "Okay, what is it?" Stiles asks. "You're creeping me out."

"I asked Deaton about it," he says. "I asked him why you and Derek are somehow connected."

"Do I want to know what Deaton said?" Stiles mutters the question.

"Deaton said it happens when people are in love," Scott explains quietly.

Stiles flushes, angry and embarrassed. "I don't love that bastard!" he insists.

Scott gives him a dry look. "You can lie to me, but it's a hell of a lot harder to lie to yourself... Besides, Deaton said it only works when the love is mutual. Derek feels the same way you do."

"Oh," is all Stiles can bring himself to say.

"Man," Scott chortles. "I knew it... I freaking knew it!"

"How?" Stiles asks. "I didn't think it was obvious..."

"To the untrained eye, it wasn't obvious," the alpha reasons, "but one, you're my best friend and two, I'm a werewolf. I can sense these things. Besides, there were times when you two were together and I could pretty much smell the desire. It was uncomfortable."

"Oh," Stiles says again, wondering of Derek was able to sense these things, too. How embarrassing! "God damn it, this is awkward."

Scott only shrugs. "I don't really care, dude... I mean, go for it."

Stiles can't help but laugh. He laughs loud, the sound echoing from the pit of his stomach and God, it feels good. "Thanks, Scott," he smiles.

"What's so funny?" Scott questions, tilting his head to the side.

"You," Stiles chuckles. "You're just... You're the best."

Scott smiles a silly smile. "I know."

Stiles snickers, nudging him with his elbow.

"So," Scott wiggles his eyebrows, "you gonna get yourself some werewolf action?"

"I'll keep you posted," Stiles says dryly.

* * *

_I think I got away this time_

_I think I got away with my lie_

_And each invention perfect in form tumbled __from my tongue_

_To watch it shine_

* * *

For the first time in weeks, Stiles sleeps peacefully through the entire night. His dreams are unclouded and when he wakes up, he feels warm and he feels secure. Thankful for the weekend, he runs downstairs and says good morning to his father. "Good morning?" his father questions before exclaiming, "It's noon!"

Stiles grins. "I slept well," he says.

Mr. Stilinski smiles at that. "I'm glad."

"Me, too," Stiles says. The nightmares are finally over. After eating a light breakfast, Stiles returns upstairs, where he proceeds to shower and get ready for the day. He throws on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt before running back downstairs. "I'm going out!" he calls to his father as he slips into his sneakers.

"Have fun!" he hears before leaving.

Outside, it's bright and Stiles greets the crisp air happily. He hasn't been outside in a couple days. He makes his way to the forest, but he begins feeling anxious as he makes his way through the familiar twists and turns of tree branches. So much happened here, in real life and in his dreams. It's the same with his bedroom. He continuously has to remind himself that what happened to him didn't _truly_ happen... but just as Melissa said, that doesn't mean he can't feel the way he does.

Soon enough, he is standing in front of the old Hale house. "Derek!" he calls, knowing this is the likeliest place for the wolf to be.

Just as Stiles suspected, Derek shows up within the minute. "Stiles," he greets as he exits the burnt house.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" the teenager asks softly, knowing the werewolf will understand.

"You deserve better..." Derek murmurs.

"I don't care what I deserve," Stiles says indignantly. "I _want_ you... and you want me, too."

Derek's jaw tightens at the admission.

Stiles shrugs his shoulders lightly before turning around. "I'll see you around, Derek," he calls before leaving. He got the words out, finally. He returns home feeling lighter, like there is no longer a burden weighing in his mind. Everything is out in the open. His mind is truly cleared. He lets out a satisfied sigh, returning home.

He spends the rest of the day catching up on school work – it's not fun, but it's necessary and he can tell his father is relieved that things are going back to the way they were before the nightmare incident.

Later in the night, Mr. Stilinski announces that he's going to the station. "Call if you need anything," he says.

"I will," Stiles promises, waving him off with a smile.

When Stiles returns to his room, he isn't surprised to see Derek standing by the window. "Hey," he greets.

"Hey," Derek replies, reaching out his palm. Stiles takes a step forward and allows the werewolf to hold his hand. For many long minutes, neither of them speaks. They just take comfort in the simplest contact until tentatively, Stiles leans up, pressing his lips to those of the werewolf.

Derek deepens the kiss, running his hands over the younger's body. "Is this okay?" he asks after they break apart.

"Yeah," Stiles says softly. This is Derek, the real Derek and not the one he met when he couldn't wake up. He raises his arms, allowing the werewolf to remove his t-shirt. He lies down on the bed, with Derek hovering over him.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Derek asks once more, placing a palm on the flat plane of the teenager's stomach.

Stiles nods up at him, but Derek still worries. He worries that the wolf from Stiles' dreams will make its way into the front of the teen's mind. There are things that can't be fixed by anything but time. Derek will be patient. He'll be kind and he'll be all the things Stiles deserves.

Clothing is discarded and they are two warm bodies, skin to skin, moving as one. Derek quickens his pace, revelling in the sounds the younger male is making. When it's over, he collapses between the teen's pale and parted thighs. Derek sighs into the crook of Stiles' neck before rolling off of him so they're side by side.

Things aren't quite normal… but then again, things haven't been normal in a damn long time. When tomorrow comes, Stiles will hang out with his friends. They will talk about things most teenagers are oblivious to. Eventually, Scott will point out that Stiles smells like Derek and Isaac will nod his agreement. Stiles simply will roll his eyes and dismiss the comment, but everyone will know what it means. Isaac will pry and ask him how it felt, but Stiles will just laugh, pretending not to be as embarrassed as he is.

"Derek?" Stiles says the werewolf's name, turning his head to glance at him.

"Hm?" he answers, turning his head to do the same.

"What now?" he asks, but Derek only smiles in response. Nonetheless, Stiles is happy he gets to see the softer side of the stern man.

So, Stiles Stilinski is no longer a virgin. He closes his eyes, letting it sink in. He doesn't feel any different, but then again, maybe he's not supposed to.

* * *

_And do they know now what they see?_

_That you can't tell a lie if it's sweet_

_To live it as a honeyed fall_

_And to watch the war of desire beyond belief_

* * *

In the morning, Stiles wakes up pressed against something or rather – some_one_. He rolls over, coming face to face with Derek Hale and that's when the previous night's memory comes flooding back. He can't suppress the smile that makes its way across his face. Derek doesn't look as sour when he's asleep. He just looks content. Stiles could definitely get used to seeing this side of the Derek.

Gingerly, he gets out of bed, trying not to wake the wolf. On quiet feet, he walks towards his dresser, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Downstairs in the kitchen, his father peers at him through the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. "I had a speech," he starts, "but y'know what? Forget it."

"What?" Stiles questions.

"I came home last night," Mr. Stilinski starts, "I went to check on you only to find Derek in your bed."

"Oh," Stiles mutters. Well, damn.

"A warning, next time." Mr. Stilinski smiles wryly. Perhaps it will be a good thing. Stiles is strong in many ways, but there will be times when he will need help. It's only natural. There's nothing wrong with asking for help. In fact, it's one of the hardest things a person can do.

"Gotcha," Stiles agrees sheepishly.

"When he wakes up, bring him down here," Mr. Stilinski says. "Introduce him to me as your boyfriend and I'll remind him I have a gun. Might not kill 'im, but I'm sure it'll still hurt."

"Right," Stiles laughs, rolling his eyes. He takes a seat at the table with his father, eating an apple and chatting about the simpler things in life. When he's finished, he retreats to his room to find Derek awake.

"So," Derek starts, looking amused, "I guess I should get dressed so your father can threaten me to my face."

Stiles laughs, promising, "It won't be that bad."

"The things I do…" Derek mutters as he gets out of bed. He throws his clothing back on before offering his hand to the teenager, who grins in response.

Derek can't help but smile back. Stiles is Stiles. Derek wouldn't want him to be anything else.

**Fin.**


End file.
